


Good Grief

by allylikethecat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Broken Bones, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allylikethecat/pseuds/allylikethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler was 99% sure his hand was broken and 100% sure he had no idea what to do about it. He was almost positive that fingers weren't supposed to bend that way, but he could be wrong. He had never been good at biology- or anatomy. Science.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. 
> 
> This story is unbetaed so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I wrote this at 4am so it could be horrible, I hope it’s not thought and that you guys enjoy it :) 
> 
> This is loosely based on one of my best friends shutting her hand in the car door. It turned out she was lucky and it wasn’t broken, but before we found that out, we did get Mexican food. My limited broken hand knowledge comes from when my father broke his playing in his old man basketball league. So I probably got a lot of things wrong.

"FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING FUCK!" Tyler swore at full volume. A mother walking down the street with her young son stopped to glare at him. Tyler ignored her, clutching his hand to his chest. The hand he had just accidentally slammed in his car door. He pulled it away from his person to look at the damage. His eyes stung with tears in reaction to the pain. His hand was throbbing, already starting to swell and turn purple.

"Fuck," he hissed again, this time at a lower volume. He went to feed a few quarters to the meter with gritted teeth, before realizing he wasn't even in a real parking space. 

"Mother fucker," he grumbled, gingerly opening the car door to climb back in. Fuck it, he thought, he could run errands later.

The drive home was painful and one handed, his damaged left hand curled in his lap. He had tried to straighten out his fingers at a red light and nearly bit off the tip of his tongue from the pain.

He parked haphazardly in his driveway, not giving a shit as he opened the garage door. Marshall and Cash ran to greet him, and he patted them with his good hand. They followed him to the kitchen, and whined as he dug through the freezer looking for an ice pack, it was as if they knew something was wrong. He wrapped it in a kitchen towel and held it to his hand. After a few minutes Tyler pulled the ice pack away to further inspect the damage.

Tyler was 99% sure his hand was broken and 100% sure he had no idea what to do about it. He was almost positive that fingers weren't supposed to bend that way, but he could be wrong. He had never been good at biology- or anatomy. Science. 

"Fuck," he swore again, putting the ice pack back against his hand so that he didn't have to look at it. He bit his lip, emergency room; he should go to the emergency room. Even if they couldn't fix his hand, they would probably be able to give him something for the pain. Pain that had started to make him feel a bit woozy actually.

He stared at his car keys. He had thrown them on the counter when he walked in. Driving sounded really hard with one hand right now. Plus with the spots that were dancing before his eyes, it was also probably not his greatest idea. Uber it is then, he decided. He wedged the ice pack between his bad hand and chest. He winced as the cold came in contact with a nipple through the fabric of his tee shirt and pulled up the app on his phone.

He went out and sat on his front steps, his app telling him that “Joey” his driver would be there in five minutes. He hoped that Joey didn't follow hockey. The odds would probably be in his favor, he mused, he was in Dallas after all.

Joey pulled into the drive way a few minutes later, and Tyler climbed into the back seat, shutting the car door extremely carefully as he did so. He was lucky; the gray haired driver clearly had no idea who he was. Instead he just made small talk about the Cowboys as Tyler gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain that radiated from his fingers up his wrist. His ice pack had pretty much melted at this point and wasn't giving him the relief it had previously.

"You okay son?" Joey asked seeming to realize that the address he was dropping Tyler at was that of a hospital. Tyler nodded, then realized Joey wasn't looking at him.

"Yeah, I just, I need to get my hand looked at," he said and Joey hummed.

"You get bit or something?" Joey asked and Tyler swallowed hard, not wanting to even think about what Joey seemed to think was a likely possibility. The first time he had seen a snake in his yard he had dragged Marshall and Cash into the car and camped out at Jamie’s. He refused to go home until he had an exterminator on retainer and assurance that his yard was currently snake free. 

"No, I ah, I think I broke it," he admitted and Joey hummed.

"You didn't hit your girlfriend or punch a wall did you?" He asked. Tyler wanted to complain that Joey was asking way too personal of questions. He wondered if he was being stereotyped because of his tattoos and snapback. But he found himself answering anyway.

"No, I shut it in the car door," he admitted, flushing.

Joey snorted, "well, I hope you don't have a job where you need to type a lot."

Tyler's eyes widened. Hockey. He hadn't even registered that he would probably be out for at least a week; with an injury he hadn't even gotten on the ice. He looked back down at his hand. That was if he didn't just ended his career. He wondered if he should call someone, a trainer, or his agent Ian, anyone. He shook his head as Joey pulled into the emergency room drop off lane. He'd call someone after he found out what his damage was. Maybe it wasn't actually broken? Maybe it was just bruised?

Tyler moved to get out of the car, jerking his hand as he did. He hissed in pain, instinctually doubling over. It was probably broken. He lifted his good hand up in a wave and Joey pulled away, and Tyler gritted his teeth headed inside.

He gave his name to the woman at the front desk and recognition flashed across her face. She typed something into the computer. Tyler flushed with embarrassment. He knew this hospital was one that worked with the Star’s organization.

It was probably for the best that his name seemed to mean something. Instead of sending him to the waiting room, where Tyler knew he could sit for hours she sent him straight back to a private room. The woman that led him there told him a doctor would be in to see him shortly. He climbed up onto the exam table, and wished he had thought to ask someone for a new ice pack, or something for the pain. 

His phone vibrated and he wiggled around on the table, trying to extract it form his back pocket. He had a text from Jamie confirming that they were still going to their favorite Mexican restaurant later. Tyler smiled and set the affirmative, carefully leaving out the fact that he was currently at the hospital. He didn’t want Jamie to worry; there was nothing either of them could do at this point.

A doctor came in a few minutes later, and examined Tyler’s hand. She introduced herself as Dr. Falker, and Tyler explained who he was and what had happened. He stifled a whimper as the doctor uncurled his thumb, nausea rolling through his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing. She hummed, and stepped back.

“I’m going to send you back for x-rays,” she explained. “It’s definitely broken, but the x-ray will be able to tell us the extent of the damage.” She paused, “I’m going to have you meet with one of our orthopedic surgeons, you might know him, his name is Dr. James Alessandro, he’s worked with the Stars in the past.” Tyler nodded the name was vaguely familiar. 

Dr. Falker left the room and a nurse came in fifteen minutes later and led Tyler down to imaging. He put on the lead apron, and the nurse stepped into the control booth to take the pictures. Tyler focused on his breathing as he was instructed to twist his hand into a variety of different positions via the microphone in the room. 

He was brought back to the first room to wait for Dr. Alessandro. Luckily the nurse had brought him an ice pack and a low dose of a painkiller and a relaxant. He knew it would take a bit for the pill to work but the ice helped instantly. 

He fidgeted on the exam table after thirty minutes went by, his ice half melted again. He hoped the doctor would be by soon. He was still in a bit of pain, and starting to get hungry. Jamie was supposed to pick him up in an hour. 

Tyler had imessage open, staring at the conversation marked with Jamie’s name. He bit his lip, debating whether he should text him and tell him he might be running late to dinner. 

The door to the exam room before Tyler could decide and a man who Tyler assumed to be the orthopedic doctor walked in. 

“Hi Tyler, I’m Dr. Alessandro,” he introduced, and Tyler shook his hand with his good one. 

“Hi,” Tyler said, happy he had something other than the pain in his hand to focus on. 

“So, can you tell me a little about what happened?” he asked, moving to pull up images of Tyler’s x-rays onto one of the large screen computers. 

Tyler flushed. “I was rushing shut my hand in the car door,” he admitted and Dr. Alessandro smiled ruefully. 

“These things happen,” he said, “Anyway, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” he asked. 

“Ah, good,” Tyler said, fear gripping his chest, it never was a good thing when a doctor gave you the option. 

“Okay, so, you’re going to make a full recovery, and it doesn’t look like surgery will be necessary,” he said and Tyler exhaled slowly, he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding his breath.

“Bad news, is that you’re going to be off the ice for six to eight weeks, and setting your hand is going to hurt like a bitch,” Dr. Alessandro explained. 

Tyler blinked, that wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. 

“I can reset your hand and fingers whenever you’re ready,” said Dr. Alessandro and Tyler took a deep breath. 

“I’m good to go,” he said, feeling anything but. Dr. Alessandro paged a nurse who appeared a minute later. He introduced himself as Bradley. He easily rivaled Jamie in size. Tyler swallowed hard. 

“I’m going to numb your hand, and then I’m going to have Bradley help restrain you if that’s okay,” explained Dr. Alessandro. 

Tyler looked away as the needle slipped into the fleshy part of his palm, a cool numbing sensation moving through the extremity. Dr. Alessandro had him lean back on the exam table, and Bradley pinned his shoulders, immobilizing his arm so that he couldn’t jerk away.

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing. Despite the numbing agent he still cried out when his fingers were uncurled and forced back into position. It felt like fire curling up his wrist as Dr. Alessandro adjusted the bones. Spots danced before his eyes and he swallowed back bile. Bradley loosened his grip and Tyler felt his body go slack as his hand was braced and wrapped. 

“You did great,” said Dr. Alessandro and Tyler smiled weakly, breathing heavily, sweat now coating his forehead. 

“Ice it every few hours for the next few days, I’m going to have you wear a sling for the first week as well to help keep it elevated, I want you to come back Tuesday once the swelling has gone down some to get a hard cast,” Dr. Alessandro explained and Tyler nodded, trying to commit the information to memory. “I’m also going to prescribe you some Percocet for the first three days when the pain is at it’s worst, I recommend taking it tonight right before you go to bed, that’s when the numbing shot should wear off.” 

Twenty minutes later Tyler was signing his discharge papers, his prescription waiting for him to pick up from the pharmacy upstairs. 

He gave his papers to a nurse, along with his copay and picked up his Percocet. He eyed the paper bag with distain; he never reacted well to narcotics, they completely erased his filter and sent him into a loopy high. The last time he had been on Percocet he had sent a novel’s worth of text messages about how pretty Jamie’s dick was. Except he accidently sent it to Jordie. He still hadn’t lived it down. Tyler knew he’d have to take the pills though, because while he felt okay now, he wouldn’t in a few hours.

He walked towards the exit, pulling out his phone as he went. He debated calling an Uber, but he didn’t want to talk to a stranger. He sat down on one of the benches outside by a small garden. The line rang twice before Jamie answered. 

“Hey babe,” he greeted voice cheerful, “Are you ready? I’m in the car on my way now,” 

Tyler swallowed hard, “I’m actually not at home,” he admitted, then took a deep breath, “I’m at the hospital, ah can you pick me up from there? I’m still good for dinner, I just, I’m not at home,” 

Jamie was quiet for what felt like hours before he finally spoke. “What the fuck Tyler?” he asked, “what do you mean you’re at the hospital?”

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, “I’ll explain when I see you, I’m fine though I promise, or at least I will be, I’m on a bench outside of the ER, by some flowers.” Tyler hung up before Jamie could say anything else. Maybe Tyler should have told him sooner. 

Ten minutes later Jamie parked in front of the bench when Tyler was sitting. He left the car running but got out, running over to where Tyler was now standing. He stopped short in front of him, and bit his lip as if he wanted to hug him, but was unsure if he could. He didn’t want to hurt Tyler further. 

“Come here,” said Tyler, careful angle his body so that his sling wasn’t crushed between their bodies. Jamie stepped forward and easily tucked Tyler against his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Jamie ran his hand up and down Tyler’s back, holding him close before slowly loosening his grip and stepping away. 

“What happened?” he asked and Tyler flushed.

“I broke my hand,” he admitted trying to keep his tone nonchalant, jerking his sling-clad elbow up then winced. Jamie’s eyes widened and Tyler found himself being hugged again. He leaned into the embrace, savoring the touch.

“How did you manage that?” Jamie murmured and Tyler’s ears burned in embarrassment. 

“I shut it in the car door,” he confessed sheepishly and Jamie pulled away to kiss his forehead. 

“You’re a mess,” he said, his tone far more fond than Tyler was expecting, “let’s get you home.” 

Tyler shook his head, but following Jamie back to the car anyway. “No.”

“What do you mean no? Tyler you broke your hand, I’m taking you home,” Jamie said, his voice full of confusion. 

“No, I mean I broke my fucking hand, I just spent hours in the emergency room, I’m hungry, and I want to go get Mexican food with my boyfriend, I deserve it.” Tyler said forcefully. 

Jamie snorted as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot, stealing a glace over at Tyler when he stopped at a red light. 

“You’re something else,” he said fondly and Tyler huffed.

“Please, I just want a fucking taco, oh or an enchilada maybe some nachos too,” Tyler said and Jamie reached over to hold his good hand. 

“Have you talked to the team or anything yet?” Jamie asked, he was surprised that Tyler wasn’t currently freaking out, in the past he tended to over react to everything. He looked over at Tyler again and snorted, just now noticing how glassy his eyes were. While Tyler hadn’t taken the Percocet yet, they had most defiantly given him something at the hospital. 

“I’ll call them after dinner,” Tyler reasoned, “I don’t think it’s really sunk in, I just, I just want Mexican food,” Tyler whined and Jamie smiled. He couldn’t magically fix Tyler’s hand, but he could take him to dinner.


End file.
